


What They Call You

by conniferusblack



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Contact War, I promise there will be a happy ending though, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, The events of Shanxi turn out a little bit different here, at least for the two characters, shanxi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-05-07 07:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14666748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conniferusblack/pseuds/conniferusblack
Summary: A human medic chooses to be at odds with the others when it comes time for the surrender of Shanxi.Better to focus on the long term than the grievances of turian and human conflict, he thinks.He keeps everyone at a professional distance as he focuses on his work.There is one who proves to be an exception.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is an importance in the significance of names. When they are used. And when they are not.

He was a medic.

He was supposed to only be a medic.

But in the past couple weeks, he had been called numerous other things.

Coward. Scum.  _Traitor_.

They dig deep and find old slurs to throw too. He doesn’t find them worth repeating.  
  
He focuses on the helping for the long term.

When General Williams had issued the command to surrender, there was an outcry of despair and frustration. He was in the minority who actually agreed with the decision.

He had seen firsthand the efficient destruction that had been brought down on Shanxi and their occupants. He had felt their shaky breaths, smelt the blood and heard their crying screams. And it wasn’t just screams. It was the also the long gaps of silence when he had been left wondering if they were dead.

Another one left dead that he could not save. Someone he had to put to the back of his mind to prepare for the others. No residual emotions to cloud judgement and quick decisions where time was everything.

Of course, this was not the case when it came to General William’s surrender and his choice to openly support him. A choice which could only lead to career suicide. So many residual emotions pushed him towards the General’s door and led to him asking what he could do to help.

There was a tolerant silence that followed him wherever he went after that. News had traveled fast. Some were less tactful and would say things while he was still in earshot.

 

“You see the shit with Zang lately? What the hell is he thinking?”

 

And then the other comments in mutters and whispers. Sometimes, he was sure they  _wanted_ him to hear. Some dared him to react under the veil of propriety as he tended to them. He was too tired to want to deal with anything other than their physical wounds. He kept his head low and followed where he was ordered, mechanical and silent.

One day, Williams requested something unusual. Tending to a sick daughter of Hannah Shepherd. “Zang, it has to be you.” Which meant:  _it has to be you since you’re discreet and I can trust you._ He didn’t understand how important she was then -- both daughter and mother, but he prepared for it like any other assignment.

They went through the usual requests and permissions with the turians. He had grown used to interacting with them and was careful never to be anything but polite. Even if fellow humans viewed him as spineless for it, Zhang didn’t see any reason to give them trouble. It was a losing battle and there was no point in it. He was here for one purpose. His personal feelings shouldn't come into account.

Thankfully, the turians were always professional. Whatever personal grievances they had with the Alliance, none of them demonstrated it openly to him. Cold, impassive, and difficult to read. Yet somehow, Zhang found familiarity with a certain turian who always seemed to be there when he needed to run through the motions of being escorted and watched as he worked with patients.

Perhaps he was clinging to having a routine and familiarity. Being able to recognize him by sight, from the dark green marshy tone of his plates that contrasted with the white jagged markings on his face. Being able to hear his voice and pick it out from anywhere in a crowd, low and gravely. And the bright green eyes.

Even if he was alien and they were being occupied and essentially under hostage, Zhang clung to it all with the comfort that he had not had to treat anything more critical than lingering coughs or sprained wrists or ankles in weeks. And the fact that they had decided that Zhang would need no more than one person to overlook him in his work was a privilege he had come to greatly appreciate.

He couldn’t imagine what General Williams had to offer or promise to let that slide.

“General Williams told me that Hannah Shephard is in holding. I will need to have permission to access her, if that’s alright. Her child is sick.”

The turian nodded. (Despite their constant run ins, neither had ever bothered to exchange names. Easier that way.) “Yes, I had been informed of that request. It will just be a moment.”

“Of course. Please take your time.”

He thought things would just go as usual, but like the ping of a dropped coin, the silence was broken by a small laugh and a comment. “Things are always so polite with you.” He was busy typing away and Zhang was not sure if he had meant to say anything or if he had even realized he did.

Zhang stared ahead at the back wall as usual and made no indication that he heard. There was no reason to diverge from the usual paths he had so carefully kept to. Besides, he could not be sure of the fact that this was some ploy to get him to drop his guard.

 

After a few more seconds, the turian actually continued to speak. “And always so quiet.”

He looked at him in the eyes then. The mandibles on his face flexed outward for a second with intentional feeling. His head tilted slightly and a sound rumbled from his chest that sounded close to a laugh. “I heard your name being spoken a couple times, but I never really understood how to pronounce it.”

 

_Oh no._ Zhang could understand where this was leading to. They were now both straying from the path.  _Please don’t._

He sounded as though he laughed again. “Some seem to say it one way and some say it another way. It’s confusing.” Zhang could feel him looking to him as though trying to read a response. When he got none, he continued, “Sorry, I know it is a bit late to introduce myself now but- “

“Actually, would it be alright if we just continue so I can see to the girl? She wasn’t doing so well from what I had been told by the General.” Not exactly true. The General had only really told him she had been coughing and a little warm. It was mostly going to be basic medical procedures.

 

_Let’s just get this all over with._ It was the primary thought in his mind for a long time now. But it seemed to push it’s way in the front now even more prevalent like a headache.

The turian was starring intently as Zhang shifted uncomfortably. He could see the way his mandibles moved again, though this time a little differently. Slowly, with small motions. A humm echos in his chest.

Zhang worries for a few moments that he may have offended him. He can only stare back, tight lipped and stiff like prey being cornered by a predator.  _You idiot. You shouldn't have done that. You shouldn’t have-_

 

“...You’re right.” He was now looking down at that holograms that hovered above his arm device and began typing away. “We should go and see her now, I just got confirmation.”

Zhang omitted a sigh of relief as he follows the tall marshy green figure and passes the others that are just a intimidating and stoic. However, the feeling of uneasiness doesn’t seem to want to leave him the more they walk on. Zhang can feel the tension that is building as they enter and elevator that will bring them to the lower floors where Shepard is being held.

 

It’s just the two of them. What was once the comforting familiar silence is now foreign and tight with anxiety. With there only being the sound of the slow moving elevator echoing in the small space, Zhang feels it suffocating him slowly.

He breaks the silence, speaking lowly. “It’s pronounced ‘zh-ang’, by the way*. Difficult for certain human speakers too, so don’t feel bad.”

His mouth is racing, unsure if he should even try to stop and be faced with the silence again. “Most who are unfamiliar with the ‘zh’ sound will try and pronounce it like ‘zang’. People often forget that there needs to be a combination of the two letters. It can be difficult to attempt it if you’re unfamiliar with it, so I don’t really take offense at people trying.”

_What the hell am I talking about?_ He was fiddling with his hands and looking down. Zhang could feel the heat on his cheeks burning. “Well. I’m babbling. I’ll shut up now.” Inwardly, he hoped that the rest of the trip to Hannah Shepard’s holding cell would be short. He seemed to have traded the anxiety and tenseness for a different kind of discomfort in the form of bumbling embarrassment.

 

_How am I going to face him again after this?_ He was thinking pitifully as he waited in vain for the elevator doors to swing open so this journey would end.

 

He didn’t expect to hear laughter. It disrupted the settled quietness that had stacked in that elevator. It was a comforting sound, hearing him be so shamelessly loud about it. It made Zhang realize he hadn’t heard true laughter in weeks. At least, nothing sincere.

Turning towards him, he saw that the green eyes were looking down at him now. “My name must be simple in comparison. Tullus Victis. No one ever has trouble pronouncing that.” His hands were gripped behind him as he inclined his head towards him, though keeping polite distance. “Your first name doesn’t give you much trouble, does it?”

“You mean in pronunciation? No. ‘Adrian’ is not difficult usually.” He couldn’t hold back the comment that followed. “Though my name has trouble tied to it for different reasons these days.”

“Ah.” The mandibles moved again. His brow furrowed and he could see the pointed teeth in his mouth just slightly. “I had noticed the other humans were cold to you.”

“They are polite, at least.” Zhang shrugged. Gaining any sort of sympathy from anyone, much less someone on the opposing side of their war was surprising. He struggled not to cling to the comfort and let it show on his face as he continued. “As long as I can heal them, it doesn’t matter what they think of me.”  _Remember where you are._

“A good man.” Zhang couldn’t look the turian in the eyes after his comment, especially when it seemed like he was being sincere.

“Hmm. But a terrible soldier.” He replied.

The turian laughed again. “Those two things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

In the moment, the elevator halted, and the two of them stiffened as they remembered themselves and their places. Zhang stared straight ahead as the doors opened.

“In war, it is.”

 

The turian walked ahead of him, not hesitating in his movements as though clicking into the routine again. He heard him speak in a hushed tone as he passed him. “This is all so new. Getting you to speak, the introductions, the cynical realities of our current lives...”

“A very productive morning for you.”

“Very exciting.” Victis agreed.

_Crap._  He had underestimated how lethal this Victis could be. A five minute conversation and it was like all his painfully built barriers were crumbling. The rules he had convinced himself to keep to were woefully being ignored. He could envision himself stepping from the path.

He wasn’t even sure if he minded.

 

Talking with someone cordially, especially one who came off as so genuine in his enthusiasm and curiosity, was refreshing. Zhang wanted to allow himself to almost forget their current state. It was careless, and perhaps even selfish. All the things they said about him behind his back, even.

Still, when they were together -- him and Victis -- it was as though they were in their own protective circle that lay separate from everything and everyone else. Time felt as though it slowed. The conversations had no rush nor purpose to cease. They would be cut off one day but pick up where they left off on their next meeting with only a few seconds to contemplate.

Both of them were eager for questions and answers only the other could provide in their exchanges. After weeks of being made an social pariah, Zhang drank in their talks like a man parched of thirst. The subjects were cordial and and full of curious intention which contrasted strangely to the reality of their situations.

 

_What if you had to kill him?_ Zhang thought to himself one night as he laid down and struggled to sleep. It had been a difficult day, more than usual, and the people were growing more restless and mean. The General seemed to be aware of it all and felt the brunt of the burden keenly.

Zhang remembered how it seemed like all that weight had pressed down on his form, how his face was wrinkled and slumped with weariness.  _What if the General made the order to retake the place and I had to kill him?_

The thoughts rolled over him like waves on a shore. He grew wearier as they returned to him with heavy persistence, threatening to drown him. And then he thought,  _What if he thinks of the same thing?_

In the time that he had talked with Victis, he had learned him to be charming and easy to talk to. They had often avoided talking of their military background but Zhang had noticed that Victis was never lax. Regardless of how forthcoming his voice and posture, he had a firm hand on his weapon at all times (or within reach). Zhang had also noticed him to be very observant and quick to notice small details when he had questioned him on his process of tending to certain patients.

_He would kill me without hesitation_. Zhang decided in his head as he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. He did not want to dwell on how that thought made him feel.

Whatever he dreamed, he would not remember in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *So, a small pet peeve of mine when non-Chinese people try to pronounce Chinese surnames is that they often mess up with ZH pronunciation. Most will try to approach it like the "h" is supposed to be silent. It's not. Think of it as a subtlety that follows after the "z" sound. The primary sound is the "z" but when you come down to pronouncing the rest of the letters, the vowels should not be as prominent.
> 
> You're pronouncing it like a fast "zuh-hang" more than a straight "zang". The beginning will be like a combination of "ch" and "j". It's just a general rule that if there is an "h" after the constant, that the it will soften it. The same thing happens for names with "C" at the beginning. "Cao" will sound significantly different than "Chao".
> 
> Thank you for tuning into Connie's Chinese 101 rundown. I promise this will never happen again. (Probably)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many, many days later.

When they met again that particular morning, there was shift in the atmosphere. He hadn’t realized that he wasn’t responding to him. He had barely heard him again when he repeated his question. “Are you alright?” The words dropped like echoes into a disembodied hallway of a dream.

Zhang blurrily looked up into the greens of their eyes and attempted a small smile. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

He recognized the sympathetic humm he made before the turian spoke. “I see. Sorry to hear that. Is there is anything I can do to help with your sleeping accomodations?”

“If you can end this entire thing with Shanxi, it would be appreciated.” Zhang tightened his lips into a frown when he realized what he said. He tried to amend with a weak laugh, “There’s nothing, really. Thank you for the offer.”

 

_He would kill you without hesitation._

 

They continued the walk in silence. Zhang could feel the turian’s eyes on him, studying and trying to read what was going through his mind. Zhang didn’t try to break the tension this time, even though he knew that the turian would not speak unless he did first. No matter how much he was sure he wanted to. He almost felt guilty for taking advantage of the turian’s need to stick to propriety.

Instead, he heard the thoughts beat with his heartbeat, repeating again and again. Reminding him not to feel at all.

 

_If his superiors gave him the order, he would not hesitate to shoot you._

 

Zhang used whatever energy he could gather to focus primarily on the patient in front of him. He had traveled here in a daze and didn’t really remember the way or how he got here. He didn’t recognize the man, but the scene was familiar enough. A dry mouth, low energy and an increased thirst. There was fatigue and his family had told him that there was dizziness and moments where he had fainted.

To be honest, one look at the mother and daughter and Zhang could already tell that the rest of the family was not that far behind the father.

He left the family and knew that he would likely return in the near future. Either to treat the mother and daughter or to diagnose when the father would die. There was nothing that he could really give them in terms of treatment nor medication.

They needed more water and food. They had all needed it a long time ago.

 

Zhang remembered that the turian was beside him when he surprisingly broke the trained silence he had intentionally surrounded around him. As usual, Zhang found his defenses did very little to stay up. When he had been determined to ignore him, he instead found himself listening very intently.

“I’ve been noticing that all of your patients are looking the same.” He was laying out his observations and Zhang made no motion of whether or not he heard. Still, he continued. “They need food and water, don’t they? I...I’m sorry-”

 _No. No apologies._ Zhang spoke stiffly. “We are being starved on purpose, aren’t we.”

 

“No!” He replied, perhaps a little too loudly. Realizing himself, he gestured for Zhang to follow him as they entered the elevator and out of earshot. When the doors closed, he continued. “There were arrangements being made to pick up a shipment sent by your Alliance a week ago. We were intercepted and attacked by mercenaries. The entire shipment was destroyed in the process.”

“Convenient.”

The turian was looking at him intently. Though he was maintaining keeping a polite space between them, Zhang could feel as though he were reaching out to him. His eyes, the slight sway in his strict posture -- Zhang urged himself to look away and ignore it.

 

_He could kill you here right now and he would get away with it._

 

The turian’s mandibles flexed briefly as he spoke. “I’m telling you the truth.”

“I don’t doubt that you are.” Zhang broke eye contact and then pointedly looked straight ahead at their doors. “I don’t doubt that’s what they want you to believe.”

 

The room looked unfocused and grey. The lights had a sharp brightness that hurt his eyes. And in the next instance, there was a blur of dark green when the turian moved towards him. Zhang could only think: _This is it._ He didn’t even bother trying to move to counter. He was sure he was too tired to care anymore.

 

There is a slight shaking and rumble. Zhang feels the world go black.

 

However many seconds pass, he returns to reality like a man grasping onto the shore of a beach after being stranded in open waters. Sounds were fading back into his earshot. Sight was returning into view. Zhang didn’t remember when he lost either, but he became acutely aware of his current state. Lying in warm arms and his head being gently cradled.

Tullus Victis.

He opens his mouth and questions to the air. “What...happened?” The words are slow and sluggish as they drip from his mouth like tree sap.

“You look like the others, Adrian.” His voice sounds full and tight with emotion. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner. I was trying...I was trying to learn how…”

He feels are though his words are flowing in and out of his earshot as though he were on a swing. Zhang cannot keep his attention focused. Though the one thing that is so clear in his mind right now is his confusion. Zhang doesn’t understand how he can be so calm in his arms. Someone who is supposed to be his enemy.

 

_You know, if it came to it. I would do it too, wouldn’t I?_

 

He coughs a bit and feels the dryness of his lips. Sweat is beading at his forehead.

 

_If the General gave me the order to shoot him, I would do it, right?_

 

Zhang sits up and feels his head thrumming and pounding. He heard the blood pumping in his ears and closes his eyes tightly while taking deep steady breaths. He can hear a humming noise from Victis’ chest.

“Adrian, please, you should lay down a bit.”

More deep breathing. His eyes are still shut as he counts the breaths. He remembers something and comments. “The elevator. We need to get up and...be standing when…”

He feels Victis move and Zhang can imagine him shaking his head. “I stopped the elevator when I saw you fall.”

When Zhang doesn’t answer, Victis continues. “I wasn’t thinking. I thought the worst.”

 

There is a long pause. Zhang opens his eyes and finds himself being able to breathe a lot easier. The headache has subsided for now. He looks up. “You didn’t think that I should be brought to a medical professional or something?”

“I thought _you_ were the medical professional.”

Zhang sighs. “This may shock you. But I am not the only one.”

“ _Impossible_.” Zhang can feel his chuckle thrum in his throat as he leans into him. “You’re the only one I see so busy, what are the other ones doing, exactly?”

“Being lazy, obviously.” Zhang can feel his speech come back to him properly again. He is clinging to Victis, feeling the cool plates of his armor. “I should file a very stern complaint.”

“When you do, let me know. I’ll be sure to back you up on that.”

 

Zhang is looking up again, vividly aware of how close they are. But it feels so surreal as his lightheadedness clings and hovers over him. “Things always seem so pleasant with you.”

Victis opens his mouth as though in slight shock. He blinks and has no response.

“And so charming.” Zhang says. Though it may seem a bit of a contradiction in this moment.

 

Before Victis can answer him, his head jolts upwards and then turns to look to his arm. His voice is low and steady as he answers whoever called. Still, he keeps where he is and only adjusts himself as Zhang settles into his arms further. If they could see them, it would be undignified. Unprofessional. Perhaps even traitorous.

Still, Zhang is smiling up at him. He is admiring the white markings on his face and how it contrasts almost beautifully with the dark plates of his face.

 

_I wouldn’t be able to shoot him._

 

He is not bothered by the thought, strangely enough. Instead, it puts him at peace. He sighs and lets his focus wander and stares at the ceiling as he hears the low tones of Victis’ voice fade in and out.

 

_I really am the worst soldier._

 

When Victis finishes his call, Zhang realizes he had not been paying attention to any of it. His own dark eyes are locked with Victis’ green.

“We have a few more minutes.” Victis tells him. “I told them we were experiencing technical issues with the elevator.”

“Hmm.” Zhang manages as he leans into Victis’ chest. His eyes are heavy and he feels an overwhelming exhaustion consume him. He yawns. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” He agrees. His laugh is soft and quiet. It is the last thing he hears before he is eased into sleep. Zhang doesn’t dream this time either, but the thoughts no longer plague him in the same way as before. Instead, they have formed into something else. He is embarrassed to admit to any of it, let alone recall it at all.

 

When he wakes, he finds himself cloistered in a room he has never been in before but the purpose is familiar enough. The floors and walls are white and sterile. His wrist is numb with a slight soreness and he deduces that must have removed the IV a little while ago. The fact that he no longer has a headache and is eager to get out of the bed is a good sign.

He can barely recall the events in the elevator at first but he can feel his face get warm when it becomes more clear with every second that passes. Remembering now, he quickly takes in more of his surroundings and is met with the feeling of disappointment when he realizes Victis is not there.

 

 _It wouldn’t make sense for him to be here._ He thinks logically to himself and lays back down with a deep breath. _It would have not been appropriate._

 

He wonders if that elevator had cameras.

The thought almost makes him want to squirm and twist out of bed and sink into the floor like a worm. As he is putting his hands to his face, already feeling the scratchy stubble that is developing there, and grimacing, he hears a cough. He pauses and looks up to see General Williams, impressively maintaining professionalism.

“General.” Zhang quickly sobers and composes himself.

He nods back. “Zang. Good to see you’re doing better.”

“Thank you, sir.” He waited. There was more to this than just a friendly call and check in. A part of him worried it would involve the elevator incident. Taunts behind his back, being shot at, and even dealing with numerous thankless patients was almost preferable.

There was another cough and General Williams pulled over a nearby chair to sit. He tells him that he has some news.

Zhang wasn’t sure what to expect.

“The war is over now. We can go home.”

 

It wasn’t that.

Most definitely, he hadn’t anticipated _that_.

 

Williams continued, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “When you’re ready, pack up what you can and get ready to go, son. You’ll be one of the first people we ship off.”

Zhang’s questions jump out of him before he can stop it. “Can I make a visit to some people before I leave? To say goodbye?”

“You mean to your patients? You should see them again soon anyway but if that’s what you want, it shouldn’t be a problem. Just go through the regular process and you’ll be fine.” He places a hand on Zhang’s shoulder. It’s heavy and warm. “By the way, don’t consider yourself on duty. You’re still on the mend.”

He also lets him know that a lot of the people has visited in the past have been tended to as well. There is a sad look to his eyes when he admits that there have still been those who have died. It is something that Zhang can only nod silently to and take as fact.

He salutes and politely refrains from asking anything more. “Thank you, sir.” He watches the man leave, knowing that it is likely that he walks forwards into a dead military career that was killed the moment he had given that order for surrender. Zhang cannot help but wonder if that is what is destined for himself as well as he watches him leave.

 

He gets out of the bed and changes into fatigues and plain civilian clothes that were left by the General. His body feels as though it has been stretched and pulled all directions and is sore from the effort.

He checks himself in a nearby mirror and touches his face and dark hair, which he had allowed to grow out past his shoulders. Tying it up into a tight bun, he checks how it looks with his face being framed with the now darkened facial hair. It hugs around his lip and chin, untrimmed but thankfully relatively even. He has no access to any of the proper tools so he settles only for washing his face and slicking back his hair.

Zhang leaves the room and doesn’t stop for anything. As he quickly turns familiar corners and passes through the hallways until he reaches the usual meeting place.

 

He’s there. Facing away from him.

Suddenly, Zhang is feeling very anxious. _What am I doing here?_ He had been so insistent on being here that he begins to realize he never paused to doubt whether he would even be welcomed. ‘Welcomed’ is not the right word, he realizes. It bizarre to think of their interactions as though they were casual meetings between friends.

 

Cordial. Inviting. Agreeable.

Tullus turns around and looks at him. His green eyes are wide with recognition and he is quickly closing the space between them.

Zhang reaches out and grasps Tullus’ outreached arm and they smile.

 

_Warm._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have led into a dirty joke for Tullus' question about helping Adrian with his "sleeping accommodations", but let's be professional, right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Citadel had been made aware of humanity's existence and acted quickly -- if not only to prevent an incoming Galactic war, but to discover more of the new race and their intentions. Negotiations went on for weeks as the people of Shanxi waited. 
> 
> Finally, all came to a close when the Alliance and Hierarchy representatives came to a steady agreement and a tentative peace.

There is light from the wide window that fills into the room, but it is grey and cold. Even when it isn’t raining, he feels that it is always like this. Now and again, there are footsteps and voices coming from the other rooms. He starts pacing when he hears them.

Restlessness had taken a regular hold on him these days.

But he does not go out. Not since he had grounded and returned to Earth. Not since he had returned home.

 

He isn’t going to visit his father until tomorrow afternoon. Until then, it was more time to himself in that empty, quiet room. He wraps himself with blankets of silence, starves himself of words and lays down on the bed once more. There are dreams, but he struggles not to remember them when he wakes. Loud sounds ripping through his ears, a bright flash of light that steals his sight and then red. And blue. Pooling on the ground and -

 _Stop._ He suppresses a shiver and closes his eye tightly. He only wants to see black nothingness. He misses the nights when he didn’t dream. _Just. Sleep._

 

Not that he would get the chance to. The hard knock on the door jolts him awake. The sound is like a thrown rock that breaks the carefully built wall of glass he is encased in. Wearily, he moves towards the door, presses the button for the camera and sighs.

His finger presses on the speaker button. “How did you find me, Kay?”

She shares the same eyes and hair color. People have also told them that they have the same facial structure. However, that’s where the similarities end. He watches her frown deepen as she crosses her arms as she replies, “I logged into your email and tracked your phone location.”

He stares at the screen for a few moments, silently. _Damn. I should have changed the password._ “And security just let you through?”

“I left my ID with her.” She shrugged. “Told her that if I caused any trouble, they were free to call the cops anytime.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

 

She continues. “You apparently haven’t left your room ever since you checked in.” It sounds more to be an accusation than an observation.

He sighs deeply. Closing his eyes for a few moments, he forces a smile. It feels too tight and stretches his face uncomfortably like a cheap mask. Only then does he unlock the door and face her in person. “If you’re going to keep throwing judgement, you might as well do it to my face.”

“How considerate.”

She then adds. “Dad’s worried about you. You should go see him.”

“I was planning to.” He emphasizes: “ _Tomorrow_.”

“Funny. You really should have gone to visit him sooner considering you’ve been here for over a week now.”

She walked past him and he takes a glance outside. A parking lot filled with empty cars. The sound of numerous rain droplets falling down fast on any surface it can catch. “And how the hell would you know that?” He closes the door.

“They notified dad when you arrived home, you know. Gave him the entire rundown.”

“Damn.” The palms of his hands felt sweaty. Turning, he walks over and sits down on the couch in the darkened room. “I had no idea. _I had no idea, I swear._ ” The last time he spoke with his father, he was in a daze and not really catching onto any particulars to the conversation. Though he remembers wearily enough that his father made no mention of knowing that he had been here a long while already.

Kay scoffs, standing across him and leaning against the kitchen counter. “Adrian, _come on_. You’re smarter than that. After what happened at Shanxi, people were so angry at the Alliance. It was a mess. They needed to monitor everything they did after that.”

His hands are clenched into fists. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

 

Silence. There were steady breathes that passed in heartbeats. And then she says, “Fine.”

He is surprised she is going to relent so easily. It’s seems a little off for -

“Actually, you know what? _No_. Let’s talk about this shit.”

_There we go._

 

It was a talk he had been trying to avoid. He had been trapped in his mind, being forced to replay what had happened at Shanxi over and over again. If he talked about it out loud, he was scared it would return in more than just ripples and echoes. It would be _real_. Too real for him to deny anymore.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” His voice sounds haggard and foreign. Already, he can feel the memories returning, digging into his mind and hoping the settle and nest there like a parasite.

“Adrian, this isn’t a test.” Kay sighs again and sits down next to him on the couch. She keeps space between them, leans back into the couch and stretches. “You just say what comes to your head first and I listen.”

“Is this supposed to be therapy?”

“Oh shit. Is that what this is?” Kay stares him in the face, her dark eyes piercing into him like the pointed ends of broken beer glasses. “Then where the hell is my money, asshole?”

Adrian can’t help but chuckle at that and relents, saying, “Alright. Fine.” Despite everything, he remembers how much he had missed talking with her. She’s here, in the room. She wasn’t going to leave, even if he told her to. _Talking is going to happen regardless_ , he reasons.

Kay is watching his face closely but he is too tired to be on guard anymore. Her voice softens and she says, “Hey. Take your time, alright?”

 

Time. He was scared that he would freeze when trying to backtrack to that time in Shanxi. So, he starts from the beginning. He tells her about how they got captured and how they were under occupation of the turians.

His sister is mostly quiet, only asking small questions for clarification now and again but she is careful to keep them minimal. Her face is blank but he can see the intense look in her eyes as she listens. There is no judgement. No comments.

When he gets to talking about Tullus, he has to pause a moment. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then continues. He has to grip his hand tightly, but can feel the way it shakes beyond his control. Still, he pushes on.

He tells her everything. Even what happened in the elevator.

She doesn’t react to any of it. They might as well be strangers. Or even two colleagues recounting a story from work. The entire room carries no tenseness nor awkward feeling despite all the words bearing such strong significance to him. The subject that he fears to talk about most is drawing near as he recounts the timeline with a forced clinical perspective.

He hopes to distance himself so far from Adrian Zhang that by the time he gets to the end, it won’t blow up in his face like a bomb. Instead, he will be a bystander to his own story. Perhaps it won’t hurt as much.  At least, that is the most he hopes for.

 

“Wait, but you said that you all got the okay to leave, right?” Kay says when he reaches a pause. “What happened? From what you’re telling me, everything seemed to be going pretty well.”

“Aside from those who died from being starved.” The voice that comes out of his mouth sounds so dead and foreign to him. A stranger.

“Yeah…” She frowns. “But things basically came to an agreement between the Alliance and the Hierarchy. It could have ended without more people dying.”

“Yeah, well....” He says. “The insurgents were more concentrated on getting back at the turians.” That’s what General Williams had explained to him when they were well away from Shanxi anyway. Officially, he wasn’t sure if everything regarding Shanxi had even been released to the public.

Officially, _he_ wasn’t even sure if he knew everything that went down at Shanxi.

 

“Fucking. Idiots.” Kay’s eyes are wide and her fists are clenched at the realization.

_She’s not wrong._

 

He doesn’t react to the sudden jump in volume from her voice. Internally, he is also shouting in anger. Inside, he is torn between melancholy and fury tearing him apart. Instead, he replies in a low voice, “They were angry after the surrender. Couldn’t let it all go and...the whole thing with Shanxi didn’t help neither.”

Kay was quick to catch on. “I’m sure the people starving didn’t help neither.”

“Seeing them suffer and die only added to the already bad morale.” Making sense of what happened wasn’t going to change how everything went down. His voice is almost a whisper now. He can sense the way his sister’s mind is working.

The question strikes him hard. “What happened to your turian friend,Tullus?” She is watching him closely. When he doesn’t answer immediately, she reaches out to with his name. Her voice is beckoning, soft and gentle.

 

Silence suffocates him. The words get stuck in his throat. Sweat slicks the palms of his hands as he grips them together. His head bends down to his knees. If he were to close his eyes now, he knows he will see him.

 

“Adrian?” Kay’s hand is on his back. The touch pulls him back to the grey room, back to Earth. He is here with his sister. He is far away from all of that now.

He raises his head and looks her in the eyes. “The last I saw him, he was not moving.” He fades back to that place. It is like leaning back into a dark pool of water and letting everything slowly submerge as he floats to the bottom.

_He had to leave him behind._

 

Zhang remembers the terrible sound. He had heard it countless times before, but it was different this time. A hollow thud as the bullet pierced through flesh and armor in a swift moment. Perhaps it was the surprise, the fact that it seemed to all come from nowhere. Tullus had grabbed him and pushed him to the side. And then, he was on the ground, screaming.

Now, he was silent. That terrified him even more.

“Tullus, you need to stay awake. _Stay awake._ ” He keeps his voice firm and calm. Even if all he really wants to do is scream and crumble beside him. _Stay alive. Stay with me._

Zhang has managed to pull him under some cover and out of the crossfire, his arms burn with the effort. Chaos has erupted like a storm around them and he is not even sure he cares to understand what has happened. The focus is only on saving the person in front of him. It’s Tullus Victis who is in his arms this time, though the stakes are much more high.

The price is cruel and merciless. The price is blood. It’s warm, but he shivers from the touch as it stains his hands blue.

 

Zhang nearly panics as he struggles to rip up the light jacket he is wearing to use the fabric to staunch the bleeding. _You don’t know anything about turian biology._ He grasps at any semblance of logic he can find as he pushes away the doubt that ebbs at him. _How the hell are you going to save him?_

He stares as the blue bleeds into the fabric. It’s a chest wound. “Stop the bleeding. Get the wound bound. Elevate him, prevent him from suffocating.” It is like he is saying the words to a mantra. A prayer. Zhang had never been religious, but it is in this moment that he grasps a small understanding in why many are. He has no equipment, the wrong conditions and an unsure mind. He is not sure if he will be able to handle accepting all responsibility for what will happen as consequence.

Zhang is close to begging for guidance or intervention. Holy, spiritual or anything else that can be offered.

 

 _I can’t let him die._ With a little effort, he is able to get the makeshift binding long enough that it wraps around him. He applies pressure, firm but also not too hard. He reminds himself to ward off the doubt, _It’s better than nothing_.

Zhang is being pushed roughly. A three pronged hand grips his shoulder. A turian with dark grey plates and red lined paint is saying something at him. The words bounce and lose themselves like marbles being spilled to the ground.

He doesn’t hear him. He only shouts back, “Please help him!” Zhang looks back at Tullus, he can recognize the color on him is fading. Those green eyes are barely open now.

Hands barely steady, face warm and voice hoarse. Zhang can only watch on as the muddled words of the other turian get drowned by noise. He is taking out a small device from his pack and applying a clear gel to the open wound carefully. The bleeding seems to stop.

 

“Zang!” The voice that impossibly splits through the cacophony of noise and screams is familiar. His focus finds it is General Williams who is gripping onto him. The dark eyes looking down at his hands of cracking dried blood before he pulls him close and tells him, “We need to get the hell out of here. _Now_.”

He does not move from Tullus’ side.“I...I can’t-” Turning towards where he lays on the ground, Zhang sees his eyes are closed now.

“He’s going to be alright.” The other one tells him. His voice is so different from Tullus. The bright red markings are thin but sharply jagged.  Zhang doesn’t know if he is older, but the way he holds himself demands respect. He handles the situation with wizened experience. He adds firmly, “You should listen to him and go.”

 

Still feeling the weight of General William’s hand on his arm, Zhang finally responds. His body moves, but he can still feel as though he were being weighed down. It takes the General another bout of shouting and pulling to finally get him to leave.

Zhang makes no move to grab anything along the way as he moves forward. It’s as though he were automatically wired. He is emotionless and blank. When the shuttle begins to take off, he is truly looking now. There is black smoke that unfurls like hellish tendrils that reach towards them. Fire still burning and spreading. Small moving figures that are quickly moving amidst it all -- turian and human alike. Some fall and never move again.

 

Shanxi, once a place of hope and promise, was bright, green and beautiful on the horizon. Now, it is like deep a wound in the land. It will fester and scar for a long time, he is sure of it.

The air is somber with a tight sadness, like everyone is holding their breath preparing for tears -- the broken sob that will erupt without warning. He recognizes some of them. Some he has treated personally. They glance back at him with tired eyes.

They do not recognize him.

Perhaps it’s his clothes, his hair, or the way he is bent over in his seat that makes him look older. Maybe it’s the haunted look in his own dark eyes. Or that he still hasn’t washed off the blood from his hands.

 

Zhang doesn’t know if he would recognize himself either.

Not when he had to leave everything behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also working on another chapter right now, so all lingering questions will be answered (soon hopefully?). I had meant to post two chapters at once. It's just that I had this in drafts and then I accidentally published it so I was like, "Fuck it." and decided to post it anyway so HERE WE GO.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the attack of the human insurgents, the already tentative peace that was achieved between the Alliance and the Hierarchy feels tested and there is heated debate for weeks on how to capture the remaining mutineers and how they should be punished. 
> 
> There is no longer a call for war, but the contempt between them remains.

Waking up was difficult. There was an onslaught of awareness of his current state that caught up to him all at once. He was weak, that much was quickly certain. He could tell from the recognizable humm that hovered around him that he was in back on a ship. Likely, moving away from the human settlement that had been called Shanxi.

His eyesight began to clear up just as he glanced beside him. Even moving his neck seemed to strain him. Still, he recognized the familiar dark figure that was sitting by his bed. Those red colony markings would always be familiar to him. It couldn't be anyone other than his _amnatus._

He wanted to to call out to him with the many questions that were swirling in his head. In that moment, he found that speaking was a frustratingly arduous task. Something so simple, yet required too much energy to expend.

Attempts at words only came out as a groan as the rest of his body woke up with him. It was as though he had been encased in a sealant for centuries and was only just now breaking out and moving. He saw it in a movie once. This seemed to feel just about right to match up to that moment.

Though the worst thing he noticed was the horrible burning that seemed to come from his chest. It was like someone had stabbed him with an omni-blade. It had only really happened to him once before but it had been a minor cut in comparison to the pain he was feeling now. From the amount of hurt, he imagined he lucked out.

 

He shouldn’t have been alive.

 

The dark figure turned at the sound of his moving and the attempts at speech that had managed to crawl pitifully out of his throat. “Easy, Tullus. You’re still recovering from your chest wound.”

“Galtus.” His effort was rewarded. Words stuttered out of his mouth clumsily and weak but were still comprehensible. “W-what happened?”

“You got shot.”

“Oh.” And then he remembered. “ _Oh_.” Everytime he breathed in, he was reminded of the wound, hopefully close to completely healing. Picking at the memories that he can leading up to this present, he finds that everything is fragmented and unclear. He concludes he must have passed out from the pain.

With a little more concentration and effort, he remembered more. Specifically, he remembered the foggy events before the chaos started.

“Wait. Where’s…” His mind is moving through his memories quickly, like he is flipping through docs on a screen.

Dark eyes. The touch of him gripping his shoulders. The hazy memory of his voice as he spoke to him. _Adrian._

Only then does he realize again that Shanxi is no more and he sobers quickly. Galtas’ yellow eyes are staring at him as he elicits a small humm from his throat. “What happened to...uh…” Words are still difficult to transfer from thought to mouth. “...what happened to the human who was with me?”

There is a small collection of seconds that pass that almost feels like hesitation. However, he knows this is an intentional move to both observe and read him.

Slowly, he tells him, “I saw him leave with another. He should be safe.”

Victis sighs softly. He cannot hide the sounds of relief that tinge his expression like a drop of blood in water. The feeling remains with him, even though he feels pointed eyes that poke and prod at the small details in his expressions.

He can tell from the subtle tonal shift in his voice that he is not pleased. Galtas’ mandibles lowers and his speaks directly. “Who was that human, Tullus?”

“A medic.” Their eyes meet steadily. Another slight pause. Victis starts to feel trapped. The room is too bright, too warm and too closed in. His hearing begins to steadily focus the slight wheezing that heaves from his lungs every time he breathes. Hands tighten into fists as he waits for the response.

His voice could break through glass. “You always do this, Tullus.” Teeth peek through Galtas’ mouth and his eyes narrow. There is a low growl. _Disbelief._

“What.” He says quietly. Not a question. Victis knows _exactly_ what.

A sigh. Galtas then he looks down at his hands and breaks the hold he has on him. “Breaking protocol and straying from the path. Asking questions and not following orders.” Victis imagines the old man running through all the many collections of memories in his head. Wearily, he sees him shake his head, eyes closed slightly. He feels a twinge of annoyance at the all too familiar gesture.

“They told me to watch him.” Victis retorts.

“They also told you not to talk with him.”

Victis grimaces and leans deeper into the pillow. He averts his eyes and stares at the ceiling. “They tell me to do a lot of things.”

Galtas grunts and Victis hears the tone shift in his voice again. _Frustration_. Victis wishes this was not the constant default underlying tone that is shared between them most days. He grunts when he experiences a shot of pain that reminds him of the bullet that went through him.

 

The dark grey turian closes his mouth. Then, there is a only the quiet argument that erupts between them for a few seconds. Unspoken words that are made of a combination of low growls and hums with small deliberate gestures. It takes less energy to communicate this way, despite it being very rudimentary.

_Stop. You. Foolish._

Victis resists. _No. Rules. Foolish._

_Aliens. Enemy. You. Foolish._

Too quickly, Victis replies. _Him. No. Enemy._

The yellow eyes soften slightly. A breath eases out of his throat. _Curious._ “What do you mean?”

Victis hurriedly gestures and supplicants: _Mistake._ His voice is hoarse when he continues to speak to clarify. “I...I meant...not all humans are-”

“You are talking about that human from before.”

Victis stays his voice and the sounds from his chest. He holds his breath and stays painfully still.

Seconds pass, and Galtas takes his hand and holds it firmly but gently. “Forget him. After everything that has happened, you will never see that human again.”

Victis, feeling another striking pain that pierces his chest, can only manage a small humm. _Denial._ He returns the firm grasp to his hand and lets him go. Galtas stands up slowly and moves to exit out of the room.

He stops at the door. “Just this once, don’t be stubborn. Not about this.” There is a sound that follows low in his throat. _Insistence._ And then another, guttural but hushed. _Careful._

Victis only acknowledges his words, but does not respond directly. When the old man is gone, he leans back into the pillow and readies himself for another long sleep. With the continuous waves of pain that kept returning to him, it seemed to also remind him that he was far from ready to leave the room. His focus then, was to heal as soon as possible.

The rooms change, and he gets grounded in a more familiar place. He is healing well enough that physical recuperation doesn’t require much assistance. However, days pass where he is left alone to only his thoughts.

 

In his mind, he is keeping the name close. _Adrian Zhang_. He internally practices the foreign combination of letters and their pronunciation like a child first learning speech. He wants to make sure he can get it right. Wants to make sure he won’t forget.

Victis replays a lot of their past conversations in Shanxi during the days as he waits for his recovery. Sometimes, he remembers how soft his hands felt, in those briefest of moments. He remembers the deep brown color of his eyes - an unusual color. And then...there was that oily smell that clung to the fibrous strands on his hand -- he had called it “hair”. It was unusual, with a vague sweet smell that clung to it.

He had remembered how he had wanted to lean in further and-...

 _Fuck._ He catches himself and takes a deep breath. _I’ve been in this bed for too long._

 

Restless and still physically incapable of moving around without feeling pain erupting from his chest that stole away his breath in gasps and wheezes, Victis was trapped in a room by himself most days. Occasionally, he had received visitors. Not any people he would welcome warmly at his door, but he cannot turn them away.

They are even more disdainful than usual.

“It is only out of respect for your late father and _amantibus_ that we tolerate your behavior.” He has been reminded of this multiple times. Though, this time, he feels the words more keenly. Tullus wonders why they haven’t just superseded everything and just strip him of everything already. Especially when they recall a lot of his interactions with Zhang like reading out a list of crimes against their people.

Technically, they aren’t wrong. The logical part of him has to admit that they are in the right for their disdain and suspicions.

Still, he takes it all very personally.

The attempts at digging for answers are cut short when his wounds start acting up and they are forced to vacate the room at the firm insistence of his _amnita_. They share a brief knowing look before she herds them out of the house with no more than what they came with.

Not his proudest moment. He knows that they know that he was being facetious and coordinated with his _amnita_ in a lethal fashion. However, these days, he is beyond caring anymore. (Any more than usual, anyway.)

Days later, when he messages his _amnita_ to question on an update of a favor, she responds to him promptly. It has been almost two months, but he has learned to be patient. When he opens up the link and sees her face on the screen, her features are open with curiosity. At the same time, she refrains from digging for answers regarding his reasons why.

Her face bares the same red for her colony markings as Galtas. However, unlike her husband, everything about her is bright: from her plates to her eyes, as well as her disposition.

Interestingly, there is one thing that she shares with Galtas. Being shamelessly blunt.

 

“Is this like the time with that asari?”

Briefly, he remembers them. Another time, another life. “No.”

Her tone shifts towards a light laughter. _Teasing._ “Or that batarian?”

“No, _amnita_.” He laughs, remembering how he was when he was with him during those days. They had parted on good terms actually.

“You’ve never dated any turians, Tullus. Not seriously, anyway.” She is still demonstrating the same tone from her subvocals. Her mouth curves, showing her line of white pointed teeth. “I’m just saying that if it came down to it, you’d probably be the first to find out more about this new species of alien too.” The implication is scandalous. He is reminded of how grateful he is that it’s a private line.

“ _Amnita_ , you shouldn’t joke about that. A lot of people are still very tense about Shanxi.” And then he adds hurriedly. “Besides, I never said anything about dating him. I’m just concerned about him.”

“As a friend.” She supplies.

“Yes.” He agrees. “As a friend.” Though, there are times he wonders if it is too forward for him to consider him even that. Whatever confusing feelings and thoughts he has been having lately, the small feeling of doubt intrudes often. It’s like a cold bucket of water being thrown on his face that brings him crashing back to reality.

 

He doesn’t know what they are. He doesn’t even know if they are _anything_.

Whatever his doubts want to tell him, he keeps being lead back to the day in the elevator. _“Things are always so pleasant with you.”_ Adrian’s eyes are a soft brown under the lights. _“And so charming.”_

He had been flirting...right? Tullus had been so taken aback that he remembered how all his usual quick replies dried up in his mouth. Zhang had always been polite, but he had also kept a constant polite distance from him that he never imagined he would be capable of... _that_.

Victis clears his throat and shakes his head. He really needed to stop thinking about this.

 

His _amnita_ looks at him as though searching for something in his face but he is careful to betray nothing. Still, whatever she is able to salvage, she is able to deduce enough. There is a moment of silence before she softly tells him, “There’s something different about him, isn’t there?”

“Aside from him being an alien, you mean?” He laughs.

She shakes off the attempt at the joke and moves forward. “I mean that you seem to want to invest more time and effort with him. With the others...you were always so content to let them leave when the time came.”

It’s too real for him. He chuckles, but he can feel a tightness in his throat. “I’m not going to be the type of person who pulls people down, _amnita_.”

He can see the way her eyes grow hard and tired. The tone in her voice shifts again. _Sadness._ “Tullus, please.” He knows what she wants him to say. Victis doesn’t want anything to do with this conversation. This isn’t supposed to be about him.

“Just...tell me when you get an update.” Tiredly, he looks down and avoids her eyes. “I’ll focus on getting better.”

 

She relents, though he can still sense the slight frustration that clings to her words as she tells him goodbye and the conversation comes to an end.

When the screen turns black, he is left alone again with his thoughts.

 

He hates this feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turian Vocab:  
> amantibus (plural) - rough translation is basically a mix of both "god parents" and "adoptive parents", it is not to be presumed to synonymous with "guardians" or "caretakers" as foreigners might get mixed up with. They don't necessarily need to be of blood relative, they can be anyone the blood parents deem fit (though they often need to be approved by the Hierarchy on paper so that they can be assured that they are fit in the event that the amantibus must take in the child(ren) in the absence or death of the blood parents.  
> amnatus - male form of "adoptive father"  
> amantis - female form of "adoptive mother"  
> amante - gender neutral, singular term of "amantibus"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the wounds heal, what else is there to do when the world feels broken and torn?  
> Where do we go from here?

It has been a many, many cycles since he has returned home.

Tullus is fully healed now. The small ache barely registers in his mind when he trains, rebuilding the muscles that had grown lax during his physical recuperation. There is another sort of pain, but it is a familiar and welcome one this time.

The search has come up empty, and his _amnita_ apologizes when she announces that she has come up with dead ends. Tullus anticipated this but still cannot help but feel the ebb of disappointment wear him down. Despite the time that has passed, the clash of the two races is still felt keenly like a fresh wound. He thinks that it would be better to try and find more information on Zhang when things are not so tense.

He doesn’t know when that will ever be.

 

By now, Tullus has moved back into his apartment and back to normal routine. However, there is a very clear change in the air when he moves about the streets. Turians are not necessarily a secretive people, prone to gossip. However, the “Relay 314 Incident” has struck a personal cord with everyone -- especially when they all had a collaborative effort and stake in the fighting.

It also doesn’t help when there is an incident involving more -- as the Alliance insists -- renegade humans. Something about an old temple exploding, many buried and dead. The details were unclear, but a familiar name of the deceased is noted to be the General Desolas Arterius. He hadn’t known the man on a personal level, but his interactions were always polite and professional. He had never been one to pass judgement on anyone too early -- though Tullus had always suspected it was because Arterius had an openly curious mind.

Now, he was gone. That seemed so final. He was never really going to get to know him more if he had ever wanted to.

Though that was probably a very selfish way of looking at it.

 

Everyone else he overhears are very transparent about how humans are akin to...really rude things to repeat. The moment someone starts on the subject, it burns and catches fire onto another person’s words and spreads. It’s a popularized cycle of hatred and disdain that mistakens itself for patriotism.

Tullus has never been one to be patriotic. He is ambivalent at best.

Of course there is something admirable about the unity and how efficient they all are from their coordinated efforts. It’s something to be proud of. Yet, Tullus finds himself personally suffocated. It’s not them, it’s him. He is the persistent piece of the puzzle that refuses to fit.

 

More specifically, he is that asshole piece of the puzzle that gets separated from the box and ruins the entire image.

 

So, he doesn’t blame the disdain he receives from others. He comes in, does his work and then leaves. Galtas keeps telling him that he could do more beyond the bare minimum -- that he can be more ambitious and reach higher, if he wanted. He never wants to.      

           

One day, he gets a message from an old friend who contacts him on job openings within C-Sec. It’s the perfect opportunity, he says, to get out there and do something more.

Which...sounds a little too grand for C-Sec. He suspects the pitch to be advertised and rehearsed, just a bit.             

However, after a couple more weeks of what grows to be a monotonous routine, Tullus Victis makes the decision to move to the Citadel and work there. He’s only ever visited there for short excursions, always feeling anchored back at his home in Palaven. There was stability and familiarity here. A foundation that he could walk with confidence.

 

It’s not the same.

_He’s_ not the same.

 

* * *

 

It has been over three months since his return to Earth. Being a medic for years, he has learned how to move forward from the violence of war. It’s the practice of professional distance. However, even as the dreams fade into a distant memory, he feels himself still affected by something else that lingers in his mind.

Perhaps it is the fact that it was a war of a different kind. A new alien race, a fumbled first impression and a crumbling chance for forgiveness.

It hurts too much to dwell on what could have been done differently. He is constantly reassured by his sister that he had done more than enough. Still, no amount of reassurance can will away the memory of blue blood. He can still recall its slick warmth and the sound of desperation in his own voice. He doesn’t know if Tullus is dead.

It’s still something he can’t bring himself to talk about.

 

Zhang hides from prying questions. The events of the galactic conflict is a hot topic of conversation for everyone. Everyone wants to have a small sense of relation in some shape or form -- even if it involves encroaching on old acquaintances long since spoken to in years. His sister and father form a firm wall between him and the outside world.

This means visits to his father are frequent, but Zhang feels as though the one who goes in his place is phantom. He barely eats, he can barely hold a conversation, and his attention wanders. He feels so removed from himself it is as though he is floating from afar and watching a puppet of himself move throughout the world.

There is a slight change in the routine one day, and it is enough to breathe life into him. He becomes aware of who he is again. He is Adrian Zhang. That is what he is called when he answers the call from a familiar voice.

 

Zhang did not anticipate seeing him again so soon. After a talk, the familiar man in the screen asks him the question and it hangs in the air like dust waiting to settle.

The hallway is dark and lonely, and the smell of his father’s cooking fades and grows cold. He had anticipated there was a purpose to the call but he never anticipated he’d be asked this.

Sensing Zhang’s hesitation, he says. “I’ll give you some time think it over.”

 

The call ended after they exchanged farewells. Zhang stared at the open screen for a few moments in silence and could sense his sister move from the shadows and hover beside him.

“Who does he think he is?” Kay said snidely. “Aside from him being publicly disgraced as a coward and defector, I mean.”

Zhang closed the screen, their only source of light in the hallway now made everything grey and dark. He turned towards her. “If he’s a coward and defector, what does that make me?”

“Uhh…” Her face fell and filled with a heated red as her eyes widened. “Shit, that’s not what I meant _._ ”

“I know.” He replied quickly before she could continue. “Just...go easy on him, ok? He technically saved my life.”

“I remember.” She relented. “I just feel like his... _request_...is really inappropriate. Like, who does he think he is?” She repeats the comment and her eyes narrow in the direction of where the screen hovered. It is the sort of disdain he has recognized on people’s faces everywhere when they speak of Williams now.  

 

When he didn’t answer right away, she continued heatedly. “Also, just cause’ he saved your life and _was_ your superior doesn’t mean you owe him shit now. You can say no, you know.”

It would be a lot to think about. He couldn’t really afford to go into that hole now. Not when he had only just started settling back into getting so used to being back in civilian life. Being back with his family. “We should go back out with Dad.”

 

When they returned, the tonal shift was difficult to hide. Their father was a small, unassuming man but he knew people. And he most certainly knew his own children.

The truth of it was eased out with the force of the gentle gust of wind. Whatever countenance Adrian could have built up, crumbled almost immediately. Adrian never could lie to his father. With his recent return from the war, there was a hovering obligation that hung over him.

 

“You are going to go.” His words are final. Zhang can see the tired look in his eyes.

He is afraid he disappointed him. “I haven’t told him anything decisive. I wanted to consider things here first.” _Do I really though?_

“You’ve already decided.” Adrian expects bitterness but his father only looks resigned. It is like he has foreseen it all happening already. Which makes Adrian feel as though there is nothing he can do to make his father feel better about this.

He almost wishes he could be more angry. Instead, his words and direct and sparse. They are also right _on the mark_. Adrian can do very little to combat against it.

 

Kay is silently listening as she puts the dried dishes away from the rack, though he sees her glance in his direction. She gives him a reassuring look as she continues on clearing the table. He wishes that _he_ could be the one clearing the table and _she_ was the one being forced to have a one on one talk with their father.

Still, Adrian sits and listens, not wanting to interrupt. He stares down at the table, unable to look his father in the eye. Somehow, he feels as though he is readying himself for a scolding.

Yet, it never comes.

 

“I want you to be honest with yourself, Adrian.” His father speaks first. “You want to go.”

Somehow, he can’t argue with that. He doesn’t know why, but the idea of leaving Earth again makes him feel a small amount of excitement. He should be shaken and broken, but there is a draw to the outer space that spans more than just war, and he knows it.

His father mentions how the call from Williams has already altered his disposition. Adrian is more alert and animated. Even the way he speaks feels as though there is an actual living person speaking them aloud.

 

That is when it becomes clear to him. With a shaking revelation, Adrian grasps his inner motivations.

 

Returning to Earth was never an escape but a reprieve.       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little while since the last update and I'm sorry this chapter is so sparse.  
> It's basically set up for what will occur later and there will be another time skip before things really start to pick up.
> 
> Turian Vocab:  
> amnatus - male form of "adoptive father"  
> amantis - female form of "adoptive mother"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A step in the right direction.

“We’ll arrive at the planet within a couple hours. Feel free to rest up until then.”

 

Adrian felt Williams pat his shoulder and then walk away as he muttered a sound of acknowledgement in response, still staring off into space. (Literal space, in this case.)

It wasn’t that he was nervous about standing and talking, the meeting itself was more of a casual social gathering. His concerns were centered mostly about the mysterious human and their way of turning something casual into an impassioned frenzied riot.

In the past couple months after Shanxi, this unknown person had garnered a large enough of human supporters that would make any politician envious. Adrian had only seen this person speak in shadowy vids with a modulated voice, but you could tell immediately that this was someone who stole your attention and refused to let it go. And, for some reason, you were willing to let them.

The ex-general had suggested that they go and see what he had to say. The sender of the email came off a little strong, but they seemed sincere in wanting what was best for humanity -- to have cohesive unity and for us all to work together to stand on our own merits.

Williams and him had been keeping to human colonies for a while, helping where they could, but they still seemed constantly adrift. They had been unable to tie themselves to a specific cause. Adrian could tell how restless it made the old general. These days, Williams was looking a lot more older than he actually was.

Casting away his old name and life was hard for him.

Though it would never be as hard as his family casting _him_ away. Even now, it was still a raw subject, and Adrian carefully refrained from mentioning it.

 

What he really needed was a good distraction, and Adrian considered whoever this person was to be a good one. The Alliance was not happy with them, to say the least. Catching up to all the drama was amusing and a welcomed bit of levity in the quiet routine he and Williams had grown accustomed to.

People online had a lot of skepticism and doubts about this person, and a lot of them were pretty loud about it. There were a lot of theories about the type of person they were based on their past posts and vids. Mystery they may be, whoever this elusive person was, they had a solid directive. They were driven and passionate. They had the makings to be a leader. To change things.

As they neared the meeting place, Adrian hoped it would be for the better.

 

Though he did not anticipate they would ever meet whoever this person was in the flesh, it would be good to see a broadcast that would be live and unscripted. If they actually showed up. And even if they didn't, it would be a good chance to look for work from other humans. With things so shaky, the other inhabitants of the galaxy were still wary to interact. 

Except, in this moment, all he had to really do now was wait. He was not unused to waiting for long periods of a time -- often, he would find something to busy himself with. However, this time, there weren’t any ongoing tasks that he needed to be working on, and Williams and him had officially said their goodbyes to the last human colony they visited. It was the awkward in between point when they would transition into finding something new to work on.

Adrian felt a small vibration come from his arm as a small blinking light notified him he had gotten a message. Opening it to a bloomed screen, he saw it was from his sister.

 

> _Hey Adrian!_
> 
> _Update on home stuff - trying to get dad to get out of the house and go hiking with me or something. We finally got your room tidied up. I’ll send you some pics of some stuff I found that I'm not sure if you wanna keep or not._
> 
> _I know the time zones are weird but try to let me know when we can vidcall? I’m taking next week off to spend time with dad but it’d be nice to hear you talk out loud. No pressure tho, I know you’re busy._
> 
> _Just let me know how things are going!_
> 
> _Kaylyn_
> 
> _[3 attachments: adrians_shit1.jpg, adrians_shit2.jpg, is_this_a_dildo.jpg]_

 

Adrian smiled. Admittedly, it was a nice reprieve every time he got an update about home, but he couldn’t help but feel distracted constantly. Something lurking in the back of his brain, constantly pulling him away from focus. He found himself rereading the same sentence more than once and staring at the pics she had sent for much longer than necessary. His fingers hovered moments above the keyboard before he struggled to type out a response.

Often, he had to feign a sort of optimism in his tone when he wrote back. Anything else would have been troubling to them. Adrian was fortunate he only had to fake the words as he was sure his facial expressions would not be able to be as convincing.

In the end, he tells Kay to give the items away. Reminders of a past life he no longer feels attached to. As much as he wants to toy with the idea that he will return and be able to sort through his things himself, Adrian doesn’t know when that will be.

 

Nearing closer to their destination, Adrian feels that something about this meeting will change things, and that there will be no turning back. Not because it is broken nor disappeared, but because to turn your back in that way would be an admission of defeat and failure.

Adrian has felt that the path to return has been gone for a long time because of this.

When the hours catch up, Williams returns to his room and finds him unmoved from his original position. He heaves a slight sigh but doesn’t comment. Instead, he goes over what has become a ritual routine before they go outside the ship, under the public eye.

“Alright son, just the same thing as always. I do the talking, but back me up if you find a moment.” Williams pats him on the shoulder, the grip is firm and warm.

“Just a father and son handyman duo, on the road, helping fellow humans whenever we find the chance and looking for any job they throw our way.”

He nods. “Nothing to be suspicious about at a social human gathering.”

Adrian squints. “Not if you say it like _that_.”

 

They share a dry laugh before the doors open and they step outside to walk into the docking area. They walk in unspoken coordination as they weave through crowds, never losing sight of each other.

Together, they spot the green neon marquee of the bar called _Paradisio,_ and decorated with metal tropical bird sculptures. The decor is muted and minimalist, with low lit orbed lanterns and numerous long wooden tables. There are hanging plants near the windows. Everything possessing a pretty quality, though easily forgettable.

It’s heavily populated -- all human -- and it reminds Adrian of home. Though he wonders if a lot of it has to do with the fact that the planet feels so much like Earth. He is no botanist, but the plants and trees that he sees lined on the streets have a familiar sense to them. He hasn’t seen this much natural greenery nor breathed fresh air like this in a long time. And there it is. A small glimmer of hope.

He holds onto the feeling when they begin to speak to others who have arrived to the gathering. Some of them are zealots. Human extremists who want to rant about their anti-alien tirades to any who would listen. Adrian and Williams politely excuses themselves, trying to collect more information from others less...passionate.

The two decide to splinter and gather what they can on their own after getting a feel of the room. No one is particularly hostile, even the zealots. It feels safe. And more importantly, there is no one that they recognize -- no one to recognize _them_.

 

While sitting at a bar and sipping slowing at his drink, he notices a smartly dressed man weaving in a out of the crowds. It’s not particularly unusual, but he also notices something about his eyes. They are an impossibly vivid blue, with a glow that feels artificial neon. Cybernetics were not too unusual these days, mostly because most people took care to make cosmetic changes so they would be discrete. This man...intentionally made his almost _more_ noticeable.

When he turned towards him and their eyes locked, Adrian’s own eyes widened and he quickly looked away. His cheeks burning at the fact that he had been caught staring rather rudely. Carefully, he paid extra special attention towards his drink for the next couple of minutes.

A dark figure moves within his view beside him. His heart starts beating fast as he glances in the direction of the tall man. For a moment, he thought it was Tullus. But that was impossible.

The thought crumbles away when the man’s eyes pierce into him as though searching deep into his soul. Thoroughly human, regardless of those cybernetics and the fact that he seemed have sharp handsome features as though he were a living ancient statue. Even his hair is fashioned and gelled smoothly with not a single strand out of place.

_There’s no way he’s here for me._ Adrian was thinking as he turned back to his drink. He took a sip and could still taste the acrid sharp taste of the alcohol. Not drunk enough.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

Adrian's heart feels as though it is about to beat out of his chest. It's a little difficult to breathe.

He turns towards the voice rigidly. “Y-yes?”

“You Harvey Robinson’s son? Allan?”

He recognizes false names Williams and him agreed on. It’s surprising that anyone would care to learn them when they’ve both been careful to keep themselves fairly uninteresting. Zhang coughs a bit and furtively looks away. “Uhh, yeah, that’s me.” Very convincing.

The man laughs softly and Zhang can feel his face grow warmer and his chest tighten. “Please, forgive my rudeness. I just thought it was admirable what you two do. Going about helping other human colonies.”

“We’re nothing special.” Zhang insists. “Fortunately, every place we visit doesn’t seem to be in too bad of a shape.”

The man nods and smiles, showing uniform white teeth. Everything about him is like someone out of the movies. _Is this guy for real?_ Adrian thinks while he listens to the man respond. “We all need to look out for each other, especially during times like these. People like you and your father are important. We need more people like that for this cause.”

“Didn’t realize we were participating in anything like that.” Zhang’s drink is nearly done and he’s lost any excuse to not look at the man while speaking without being rude. “Dad and I try to keep out of the political stuff.”

“It’s not about flags, banners and those uptight politicians, Allan. It’s about upholding the hope of the people. Taking care of humanity so we can flourish.” He orders Adrian another drink and ignores him while he attempts to dissuade the attempt.

More minutes pass, and Zhang is not sure if it’s the alcohol of the charm of the man that settles him into a comfortable daze. He feels drunk on the attention more so than that actual drink.

 

“So, why do you think this guy chose Eden Prime as the meeting place?” He asks the man.

“Why?” He mirrors the question in a fragment. His eyebrow raises but his eyes soften briefly in contemplation before he answers. “Eden Prime is a symbol for humanity. Or rather, it _should_ be. It’ll likely take a decade or two, but this place has the potential to be something beautiful. And safe.”

“Do you feel that the other human colonies are unsafe?”

The man crosses his arms, his face looks cool. “I hate to say it, but yes. Consider Shanxi, for instance.”

“That...was a special case.” Zhang argues lamely.

His voice lowers but the anger in his voice is still clear. There is a slight shaking as his hands move while he speaks. And something in his eyes change. “I think none of us would consider it special.” He frowns deeply, looking away. “Horrible. Shameful. An attack on humanity, I’d say.”

He sighs deeply, his eyes closing some brief moments before he opens them and looks at him again. He looks transformed, back into the polished, charming man again. The blueness in his eyes have cooled considerably. “I...apologize for sounding heated. It’s a...personal matter to me. Not just Shanxi but, just the war in general.”

Zhang nods. The feeling was all too clear to him. “I still have dreams about being in the war too.”

The man’s eyes almost seem to glow even brighter. “I see. We’re more alike than I thought.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Zhang averts his eyes and can feel the heat reach his face once more. He makes a mental note to stop drinking any more alcohol. “But I cannot argue with your logic. I would hate the idea of another colony being taken over again, regardless of the circumstance.”

“Exactly!” He exclaims and places a firm hand on Zhang’s shoulder. “Which is why it’s so important that we all come together like this. We need to develop a drive and ambition to reach a hand throughout this galaxy and take our place in it.”

He is so confident in his words that Zhang always feels whisked away by it. It’s difficult not to feel enraptured by the spell of his charm and surety. Doesn’t help that he’s growing more and more handsome by the minute neither.

“For someone who is dismissive of politicians, I can’t help but see you’d be a pretty impressive contender.” Zhang comments casually.

“Ha! Not the kind of life I’d be keen on living, to be honest.” He smirks. “Too cushy.”

Zhang gives a small laugh. “You like the action.” He knew the type well.

“It’s more that I can’t stay away from it.” His eyes look at him intently. “Or rather, it cannot stay away from me.” Oh, Adrian definitely knew this type well.

There is a long pause as the two stare at each other and Zhang cannot find himself able to break away. He has gotten used to the unnatural glow of the eyes and the striking attractive features of his face. The man reaches out and gently touches his hand, the soft tenderness a direct contrast to the intense look in his eyes.

“Allan! There you are!”

 

He doesn’t immediately break away at the interruption and instead languishes for a few moments more before slowly turning towards the voice. When he is let go, Zhang pulls his hand away from the counter as he feels his entire body warm into a feverish heat. It’s not a sickness that has taken hold of him though.

The man smiles widely. “Mr. Robinson! I was just talking with your son.” As if that wasn’t already obvious.

“Yes, I see that. I’m sorry I didn’t come and find you sooner, Allan, I got caught up in distractions.” He says, though also giving him a knowing look. “Though it looks like you did as well.”

Adrian feels like sinking into the floor and disappearing from existence. “It’s not what you think, Dad.” It’s like he is a teenager again getting caught sneaking food into his room in the middle of the night.

The man’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Mr. Robinson, my intentions were pure, I swear.”

Adrian rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t sound that way when you say it like _that_.”

“Please, spare an old man of the awkwardness of imagining anything more.” Williams puts out his hands like a man trying to stop a car in ongoing traffic that is their unspoken flirtations. He then chuckles. “Though I do not doubt you have been nothing but respectful, Mr. Harper.”

He nods. “Of course, Harvey -- Can I call you, Harvey? -- He is one of the good ones, I can tell.”

“Yes well, I hope you do not mind that I take him away. I just got word from an old friend that they need help. The authorities in the area have been unhelpful, so I hear.”

“And the authorities are not human, I presume.” Harper frowns deeply. “It’s despicable how biased they can be.”

“I try not to take it too personally, Mr. Harper. We _are_ strangers to this galaxy, after all. And after the war, everyone is a little uneasy.” Williams states with a controlled calmness. Though Adrian can see he is urging him to get up and move. His hands are rigidly at his sides as he stands straight. “I try not to take things too personally.”

“I take it personally when they kill us, Harvey.” Harper says flatly.

“We killed people on their side too.”

“And _they_ were the ones who started it!” There is a white fire behind his eyes now, and a slight shake to his gestures. “We were strangers, yes, but you don’t attack people just because you do not know them.”

“On that, we can agree.” Williams admits gruffly. Memories likely returning and picking at the raw wounds that still needed to heal.

“Mr. Harper, is it?” Adrian interjects, turning his attentions back on him. “I just realized that I didn’t catch your name.”

Harper’s eyes widen and he has the decency to look bashful for a moment. “My apologies, Allan. How rude of me.”

He puts out his hand. “Jack Harper.”

Adrian takes his hand. “It’s good to meet you, Jack.”

“Likewise, Allan.” He smiles.

 

At this point, Williams took it upon himself to almost physically get in between them like a wall and then made up an excuse about them being late. Adrian stood to follow, but was stopped once more when Jack reached out and grabbed his arm. Steadily, gently, he tells him, “Let me know if you ever need assistance, Allan. People like us need to stay close.”

The warmth of his touch lingers even while he is giving him his contact information. And he still thinks of it long after Williams has ushered him away, out of that place, back towards the ship.

“Stay focused, son.” He is saying to him when they are well out of earshot of anyone. “It’s best not to get close to that one.”

“He seemed nice enough.” Adrian clears his throat, staring straight ahead.

“I don’t doubt that.” They reach the ship and get inside. “He is nice to everyone. Especially the ones he has targeted for recruitment.”

“Hm. I’ve been through that before.” Adrian laughs lightly. “Except, there was a lot less flirting when they were recruiting for the military.”

“That Harper is a driven, calculated man. Something tells me he is not one to be underestimated.” Williams grimaces. “We’ll likely see him again in the future. At the head of a human mercenary group. Make no mistake about that.”

 

The comment lingers in the air as the conversation comes to an end. For the past few months, Adrian has barely had much pleasant interaction of that nature, but he always refrains and withholds. It doesn't feel worth the risk.

Instead, he focuses onto his new task. Adrian reads over the message that Williams has forwarded him. It wasn’t just an excuse after all, the people in need of help were real.

“Where is this, sir?”

The man groans a bit as he stretches his arms slightly. And then he says, “We’re headed to the Citadel, son.”

 

Adrian doesn’t know what to think of that. At least, not yet.

He’s distracted again as he stares forward through the window, up towards the sky. He can still feel the warmth of a close touch, the hand on his arm as he pulled close. His bright eyes.

But they’re green. Not blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure how to split this chapter, so this one's a bit longer than the last chapters.
> 
> The next chapter will focus on Tullus.


End file.
